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Discolouring stories,
the tile roofs left the valley,
marked absences become marked,
the hill speaks to silence,
on the other side, the sea lets its language be felt,
wounded by the past barely
it barely lets us perceive the traces,
lonely balconies, sun and moon
fade like forbidden loves,
between cracks the nostalgias
flicker at night,
a world of aimless ships
crosses hopes,
caged the city shudders,
other storms make themselves felt,
life goes on,
we're running out of yesterday.